


Geliebte Muse

by artistocrazy



Series: AusHun Week 2018 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Aushun Week 2018, Cold War, F/M, Post-Nuclear War, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:16:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistocrazy/pseuds/artistocrazy
Summary: Each and every Valentine's Day since 1990, Erzsebet would host Roderich for dinner and play along with his continued joke of "forgetting" to send her a gift. Little does she know that her anonymous gift from a "secret" admirer is not so anonymous but has been the best-kept secret of the 20th Century.A written work for Aushun Week 2018 inspired by Day 7 Prompt Letters.





	1. Deja Vu

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Day 7 of Aushun Week 2018 for Letters.

"Sorry, I'm not supposed to tell you, but..." Oh, she had heard _that one_ before! The postman could never fail to bring a smile to her face with those words on this day, and Erzsebet’s teeth would always sneak out after hearing them, and a quiet giggle would bubble up from her thinking the same thought every year: that image of Roderich arriving later that evening and acting like he didn’t send it.

He would stand at her doorway: bundled from head to toe, brushing the snow off his limbs outside, taking off his winterwear before coming in, shivering and complaining about February being “a dreadful time of year” – the usual. And he would spy the gift sitting on her table and say something along the lines of how terribly forgetful he was and how one of these years he wouldn’t be surprised if she would stop inviting him to dinner and let him freeze outside if he dared to show up without a peace offering.

And they would open it together and the gift would always be something only he would have seen her gush over sometime while they were out together – a cute hat, a warm scarf, a book he couldn’t stop talking about, cookies she mentioned she’d been craving. Generic to everyone else, but to Erzsebet they were unmistakable.

They all had one thing in common though: they never included a card or a note. Not that they needed to, anyway. The man was far too predictable. And there was always something endearing to her about Roderich’s shyness over such gestures, even during their marriage.

This present, however, _did_ include a note, with script that was written over twice, maybe three times to be easily read:

_Absolutely under no circumstances should you open this before dinner._

It was a dare, clearly. She’d even read the note, hearing his voice coquettishly teasing her to absolutely under no circumstances open it.

Once she had thanked the postman and signed for the delivery, she scrambled to her couch and tore through the paper quickly to reveal…

 

a book?

 

No.

 

A thick file.

 

It was old and worn and looked like it had recently been recovered, nearly lost to time. The pages inside looked faded, crinkled from rough touches.

How old were these pages?

What were they?

Just the feeling of it sitting on her lap, the cover staring up at her with a worn-away East German insignia, stilled the air in the room. Erzsebet felt a shiver creep up her spine with that sinking feeling, and she stood to check if her window was letting in a draft, knowing full well it was locked. After scanning the room to be sure, Erzsebet felt her stomach turn from catching sight of the file on her sofa again.

But she’d gotten this far already and, dammit, she wasn’t going to let something as simple as a book intimidate her.

Besides, Roderich knew she always waited until he was around before opening anything he sent her. He wouldn’t have left a note like that on top of this gift if he truly didn’t want her to open it beforehand.

Erzsebet hummed to herself.

_How scary could it be?_


	2. A Not-So-Neutral Shut-In

Shock. Shock and regret, crashing through her like an anvil falling into her stomach. She couldn’t help herself but reread the page to see if it would help her get past her disbelief.

* * *

_8 June 1955_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_I apologize for the crude appearance of this letter, though I pray it finds you well. I am just now learning to use the typewriter, and I am reminded greatly of my grand piano._

_This reminder is bitter for me. My poor piano is beyond repair, and I have been forced to discard it and request a new one. I do not know when to expect it, but until I have it I will replace those keys with the ones on this contraption. I am not surprised my thoughts have wandered to you when I should be completing more paperwork._

_I have reacquired the house. I am surprised it was not completely destroyed; however, vandals have left it a shell of what it once was. I will admit it does look better than when last I saw it as a federal building. The destruction is perhaps the only thing for which I will thank the Soviet troops._

_And yet I still mourn. I do not have the comfort of filling these ruins with the sound of Liszt’s music today. I remember how greatly we admired him._

_And yet I tried. I requested a gramophone to fill the house in the absence of my grand, but I was instead gifted a radio, which only plays news or that jazz music. I dislike using it. I think it is broken. The little knob for changing the music is stuck, and now it only plays the jazz music. The house feels even more barren with it playing. I am grateful it is not instead stuck on the news. Hearing any more of it might risk making me ill._

_You may have heard the Second Republic is now a neutral territory. This decision is complicated. I am in no capacity to act outside of saving myself. Most countries are of the same mindset. We all have our own damage to bear, and we are frighteningly aware of the new consequences of picking sides._

_Please know I do not follow through with this decision lightly, thinking on your plight. Please do not think I have chosen to abandon you. Not a day goes by in these ruins where I am not reminded of you or think on your well-being. None of us are truly well, I know. I only hope you are faring better than I fear._

_If you cannot bring yourself to respond yet, I understand. If you can, I eagerly await hearing from you.  
_

 

_Frohes Jubiläum, Meine Atem. I liab di._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

She glossed over the signature again and again.

_...I liab di._

_Roderich_

She was sure this was the first time he had signed something intended for her, had acknowledged his involvement in something so sweet. She was so sure he would never, in either of their lives, do such a thing, and yet she had the proof at her fingertips.

The fuzzy feeling in her chest resonated like tender strings. He told he loved her – the first of many letters in which he told her such things and reaffirmed it by name. A whole stack of them, she assumed, which she could read whenever she wanted.

Did she want to wait for him? 

How could she? She teemed with curiosity, too filled with questions.

Who had kept them all this time? Who intercepted them in the first place? Had they read these letters?

She already knew the answer to that.

Had they realised these letters were for her, or did they think they were for some other beloved muse of some other Roderich in Vienna?

How were they recovered?

What had he felt the need to say to her, to have written her so many times?

The Hungarian thought back to 1955, and her eyes glossed over as she struggled not to recall too much.

She bit her hand to stifle a nervous laugh, blocking out those feelings – the betrayal, the isolation, the constant threat of doom that loomed over her head if she failed to make a stand. She spent so much time foolishly wondering if there was something she had done to feel so alone, if she were so willing to fight for her freedom and he was so willing to shut everything out. Shutting out the world had always been a part of his nature, the more she thought on it.

She thought that was why their supervised visit the following autumn had been so awkward and quiet.

She remembered Ivan escorting Roderich to see her that October. She remembered his quiet horror at the sight of her. She remembered the flush of shame, the embarrassment of which nearly choked her words away as she did her best to hint at the danger ahead. Mostly, she remembered how cold he seemed sitting across from her, peering at the floor or his coffee more often than at her.

She felt her heart break at such a sight. Was it meant to be a goodbye? If so, did the sight of her make it easier to let go? Would he ever come again? Was he brave enough to help her rebel? Why did he have any right to hold more stoicism than her? What did he know of her pain? Was he blocking out all he felt with Ivan by the door? What had they discussed to get him to see her?

But new questions flooded in along with the old ones: Did he know she hadn’t seen his letter? Did he feel he didn’t have to express warmth because he’d already done so? Was he overwhelmed by discouragement? Did he think she resented him? Did he think she kept silent as a petty punishment? Was he acting so cold based on being monitored? Did her resentment pose him an extra challenge under scrutiny?

She flipped further ahead to see what he had written in October and November in 1956. Either pages were missing, or he was at a loss for words. The wind had knocked itself out of her again as she hunched over the book. It was a ghastly silence that made her stomach turn. She hessitated to read on.


	3. Hearts In Graz

_2 December 1956_

_Geleibte Muse,_

_Please do not be discouraged by my lack of words recently, especially after having visited you this past autumn. They are not inspired by any lack of devotion on my part. Quite the opposite. The sight of you left me speechless in all the ways that should matter._

_The winter here is predicted to be harsh this year. At least, as harsh as you might remember them being here, although I cannot help but wonder where you will be spending yours – in Budapest or among the other satellite nations in Moscow. So long as you are not in Siberia or Bucharest or Belgrade. God forbid. Perhaps you might be spending it in Felix’s company, perhaps Gilbert’s. I hope you will be in his company, strangely enough. It pains me to think of you alone at Christmas time._

_I myself will not be spending the holiday at the house in Vienna. Strange news, I know. It will be my first time missing the New Year's Concert. You see, I already have too much of what the Americans call "Cabin Fever", and a bit of travel will be good for my health, now that I am walking again._

_I do admit, I am nervous I am at risk of straining myself. I will be travelling first to Styria. It has been so long, and it seems my heart is there, along with many other travelers. If you remember, there are mountains all around, but please do not worry. I do not plan to climb into caves and to skin sheep like a hoodlum for those Krampusnacht celebrations. Besides, I could never hope to be as much a terror as you in one of those ridiculous costumes._

_I have chosen to participate in other holiday activities while in Graz. From what I understand, the people there are quite eager for such festivities. Hopefully not for Krampusnacht, or I shall be quite disappointed. In a strange turn of events I was considering volunteer work, at least to keep me from isolating myself. Perhaps I will be asked to lead the people in a few carols or to play with a band. They may need another violinist or pianist._

_Who knows? They might need a cimbalom player, after all this time! It has made an odd resurgence on the city streets here. Many people are quite eager to hear it._ _Something about one of those moving pictures, perhaps._ _Maybe I shall see one while I am away._

_If my letters become infrequent, please do not fret. It may be difficult for me to write while I am traveling, but I can assure you I have not once stopped thinking of you. And if I am to be expected to complete paperwork and bring this infernal machine with me during my travels, then my superiors will need to expect I will write to you all the same before I finish anything._

_If you are able, I would greatly enjoy hearing from you. I have heard rumors that keep me from sleeping on what is happening in Budapest. It would bring me great joy and comfort to know you are safe._

 

_Frölicher Weihnachten, Meine Atem. I liab di._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

Erzsebet felt a tear or two brim, blinking them away. In her cell, she had heard whisperings about the people escaping into Austria, how their army was involved.

He had to have known. He had to have made preparations. He must have thought to help her. She needed to allow herself to believe it – to delude herself, if she had to. To move past her confinement, it was the only way that seemed to work, so she could keep hold of her sanity.

It was strange. With his ability to beat around the bush, she thought maybe his writing could fly past a censor. Was this skill useful for a strategist? Absolutely. For a husband? In this case, it could have worked. She would have taken anything at that time. 

His heart was in Graz. So were tens of thousands of her people.

She knew he couldn’t say it, for safety concerns, but he was much too obvious.

Erzsebet shook her head and dabbed under her eye with her sleeve. After taking a moment to stand and search for a tissue box, she dove back into the letters.

 

* * *

_2 January 1957_

_Fröhes Neue Jahr, meine geliebte Muse!_

_I hope Gilbert is treating you with kindness, if you two were fated to spend the New Year together. Additionally, I hope he is not a sick dog this morning. I hope you are not sick, either. If you are, then I hope you were sick for the reasons I should have been sick yesterday._

_I was a little winded upon arriving here weeks ago, but I have been on my feet and among the people for much longer than I anticipated I would be and have yet to regret the decision. Perhaps I have been moving around so much that I could not possibly drown myself in spirits. I am just as surprised writing it as you must be reading it. However, as you would expect, walking is out of the question today, and I am confined again to a chair. I stand by my statement about not regretting this decision._

_One thing I have missed about Graz is how dry it is, but it is still chilly and my clothes stick to each other much more than they do normally. It is a pain to comb through my hair each morning. I swear, I step outside and I must look like an eccentric madman to these people every day. Then again, I doubt the locals expect anything less of someone so clearly Viennese. I wonder with your long hair how much of it would stand every which way in the morning, if you accompanied me._

_In a way, I cannot help but feel you are here with me. I cannot help but see you in many of the people I have met while celebrating in Graz. I cannot help but speak of you among them, many of whom are also without family and are missing someone. It has admittedly been one of the busiest holiday seasons I have had in quite some time, but it has also been one of the most rejuvenating. Although I must admit, I was lonesome simply playing the Blue Danube waltz instead of dancing to it._

_It was a special way to end a horrid year, and I received perhaps the most necessary gift within its constraints: hope the world may change for the better. It is a_ _gift I have been starved of for far too long._

_I hope to see you again and perhaps have more to say in person. In the meantime, my letters will have to do. I can only hope they reach you, for more than just my comfort alone. Perhaps when I arrive home, I shall be graced with your response._

 

 _Thinking on you always, Meine Atem._ _I liab di viel._

_Roderich_


	4. Adjustments and Projects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So in the late 50s, Roderich is trying to get his life together and not be such a sad sack, and Erzsebet is jumping back and forth between letters.

_12 January 1957_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_I am starting to see my age catch up with me. This morning I awoke to find a few gray hairs on my pillow, and I realize I cannot blame Gilbert for sneaking onto my property to put them there. Again, I hope he is treating you kindly._

_I am currently in Salzburg, and during my leisure time I have witnessed myself unironically become a Herr among strangers. Perhaps it is the cane? Perhaps not – there are several young people walking around with such things. I have even seen children use such things._

_Perhaps I appear tired. I did recall seeing dark circles staring back at me in the mirror this morning. Perhaps a thin wrinkle as well. And to think I used to be called a sick old man. Perhaps we are all looking a bit ill these days. At least, that is my hope._

_It’s strange. I was once so adamant about being addressed formally, and now I find it troubling. I would rather not be an old man on my own. The ordeal sounds terrifying. Then again, it is not as though I anticipate living in a world that would allow me to age much at all, depending on how long it lasts._

_I realize now this statement is not as humorous written rather than spoken. Perhaps it is more concerning that I find this of all things as humorous as I do. Regardless, I should not make such jokes and apologize for such morbidity, unless it has made you laugh._

_I still know very little of your own troubles regarding the state of things. I understand my lot is likely far more fortunate than that of your own. Perhaps you have aged as well, perhaps faster than I have under your circumstances._

_If so, what would I care? If given the chance, I would still walk with you on my arm into a concert hall or around at an exposition. I have no qualms over people whispering about how I am clearly out to swindle your fortune. It was not as though all of Europe avoided such whisperings over me anyway._

_I had once hoped we might one day grow old together. The naïve musing of a child, no doubt. I cannot help but revisit it now. A pleasant thought with which to escape from my troubles. If nothing else, it pushes me to further my involvement in the nuclear question so I can do more than make tasteless jokes and lose sleep._

_If given the choice between dying young in a nuclear Armageddon or getting the chance to see you again when we’re both old and grey, I choose the latter every time._

_The best is yet to be, Meine Atem. The last of life, for which the first was made._ _Immer liab i di._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

_27 March 1958_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_I have recently spent time hosting other nations for the comfort of company. The house in Vienna is perhaps one of the few old places suitable enough to entertain guests, and I am thrilled to say I finally have a new piano with which to entertain. Sometimes if we are to expect visiting representatives, an occasional visitor will think to stop by._

_This has mostly been done by Ludwig. He has been a frequent visitor, probably for the same reasons I am taking visitors at all. I understand I am not really who he intends to see, though he is not without company in his life. He frequents Venice during his off time. I suppose it is a case of old habits dying hard._

_It is my impression he is lonesome for Gilbert, and I am, as you might imagine, some parts honored and some parts horrified that I have somehow become the person to fill that void. I recall hearing it a few times from you, that he and I are somewhat alike. Upon bringing this up with Ludwig, he made the same comparison, to which I did shudder upon hearing, if you were curious to know._

_I cannot begin to fancy the idea that he and I are that similar. Gilbert would be too proud to receive such help from his younger brother. If it means Ludwig will jump into the upkeep of this house when he comes over and fix the radio, I will not complain about being viewed as a dependent. There is far too much here for one person alone to maintain._

_While I cannot see you, I hope you are in good company and maybe someday you’ll be able to visit. If you see Gilbert, please inform him that he is pestering me for him. He and I are commiserating in worry of what lies behind the fence. A word from either of you would be appreciated._

_I vermisse und liab di, Meine Atem._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

_6 April 1957_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_Today I have a newfound appreciation for your work on the garden outside. Especially as I have let it fall into disarray and am attempting to amend it. Feliciano and Ludwig have both commented on missing the flowers and have suggested I attempt to bring them back. Ludwig was quite insistent, especially as another way to get some fresh air._

_After my work today, I regret not thinking to hire a gardener. Trimming and weeding and watering is more grueling than I had anticipated, and it is possible I have made the hedges appear even more haggard. I am baffled by how you continued to do this every year and avoid leg cramps._

_In the next few weeks, however, I hope I will be distracted by the aroma of peonies and hydrangeas and lavender and sweet peas to even remember the ache in my knees. Rather than look at overgrown greenery and dried roots, I can at least allow myself some color moving forward. So long as I remain consistent about watering them anyway._

_I am also attempting to grow vegetables and the like, to see if I can cut corners and avoid braving public transport for such things. Here’s hoping I have a green thumb._

_Wishing you good health and happiness, Meine Atem. Please write. I liab di._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

_17 May 1959_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_At Ludwig’s behest, I am finally learning how to drive an automobile. His reasoning is difficult to protest – I have no horses to care for, I loathe public transportation despite its convenience, an automobile would have the space to store my instruments, and I have regained a semblance of control over my feet to play regularly with pedals. And he would not have to be my chauffeur._

_He assures me automobiles are much safer to drive these days, although I am still hesitant. He must either have a considerable amount of faith in my ability or few other options, as he is using his own to instruct me. Or it could be that he needs added encouragement to be sure I can navigate safely, and so he uses his car as additional incentive._

_It is a homely hobby and I hate it. The only benefit of learning is listening to the radio, but even then it has that awful static noise. Learning has been stressful with Ludwig, although I at least feel safer with him grabbing the wheel and keeping us from crashing than I do with Feliciano panicking in such moments. His way of driving is much too reckless for my nerves._

_I still struggle to understand the pedals. It should not be so difficult, and yet here I am having nearly crashed into our mailbox driving out into the fields to practice with him today. Thankfully I avoided it. It still needs to be repainted with the fence. Which reminds me – the house has a little fence with a gate now, but it is more for my benefit for upkeeping the grounds. It is less overwhelming for me this way._

_The painting is a project for Ludwig though. He jumps into so many of them before I think to claim them. Again, I am not complaining, if he insists on taking on so much work. I at least have the decency to thank him with sweets, so I have better excuses to bake beyond for my own tooth._

_I will not admit to it openly, but I am somewhat grateful to Ludwig and Feliciano for checking on my wellbeing and helping to occupy my time. Gaining a semblance of control over my life, no matter how slow it may seem, has had its small rewards. Though I admit, I would be content to do nothing productive with you beside me. Maybe that is the real reason they will not allow me to see you. Excuse the crassness, but the sentiment remains. They can shut me out, but they cannot shut me up. Only you can do that._

_Health and happiness, Meine Atem. I liab di._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

_23 August 1959_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_If you find stains on this letter, please refrain from panic. I surmise I will have composed myself by the time you read this._

_Today I recovered our record. I had nearly forgotten we made one. Part of me is grateful to you for convincing me to make one with you. Part of me is heartbroken, because I realize it is the first time I have heard your voice soar in several years._

_As muted as it is, I am reminded of our difficulty in getting that damned machine to stay in place, but I am grateful to it. Had we not made such mistakes, I would not have remembered our laughter over it. Who would have ever thought we could be so loud?_

_Meine tiefste, liebste Atem._ _I had not realized how deeply I yearned to hear your laughter again. I am nearly inconsolable over its distant melody. I had nearly forgotten its sound, and that realization alone appalls me to no end. In what world do I live in where all that is wholesome continues to slip away from me? In what world should I ever forget your sound in a short few years? Am I becoming more and more like them as I age?-_

 

Erzsebet had to stop from reading the page any further, for her own peace of mind.

She had to set down a new rule for herself going forward reading these letters: absolutely under no circumstances read any more tear-stained ones by herself. 

Erzsebet put the files down and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. She’d gotten a good look at herself in the mirror before walking back out, and she had to laugh.

“Istenem, te egy rendetlenség!” Smearing the tears from her face, she ran back in the kitchen to splash herself with some cold water.

After taking a few deep breaths, she started talking to herself again. “Nyugodj meg, Erzi. Calm down. You’re okay. You’re… A francba!” She cringed, doing a double take at the clock. It was past 15:30, and she hadn’t even started pulling everything out for their dinner!

Gripping her hair, Erzsebet took a moment to pace around her sofa, reprimanding herself from sitting down and reading on just yet. Strange, how’d she’d just read that letter about self-restraint. Maybe she needed more of that when it came to these kinds of mysteries. She always had a compulsion for wanting to piece things together.

No, no, she had a dinner to cook. With a firm stamp, she pivoted her way into the kitchen to wash her hands. “No. No more,” she told herself. “The goulash won’t cook itself.”

After drying her hands however, she stomped her way back to the stack on the sofa and tried desperately to wrap it back up to what it used to be. If Roderich was going to be there any second, she couldn’t have him worrying about her prying.

While shuffling them together in a frenzy, a few slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Swearing under her breath again, she bent to her knees and gathered them off the ground.

She tried to avoid reading them, as they weren’t the most pressing letters. A few notes about seeing musicals, conducting and attending concerts, adopting stray cats, complaints about learning to drive or the sticky nob on that radio. However, the words of one note had caught her attention...


	5. The Missing Piece

_14 February 1967_

_Geliebte Muse,_

_Sometimes I feel as though I am writing letters as if I am visiting a grave, into an abyss with little hope of them ever being reciprocated. Perhaps I really have become an eccentric madman, wasting away my time at this desk, rambling on into what is perhaps a lengthy diary of garbage._

_If I am mad for such actions, then so be it. As I have reasoned it, all that will make me stop is your word demanding my silence or the destruction of the Earth. Until I am assured of your safety or of your perishing, God forbid, I will keep rambling on to you about what has come of my life._

_I will make an absolute bore of the life of the agent who must read through my ravings and petty complaints and existential musings. I will make them so sick of my trivial nonsense that they will not dare to risk opening another letter about remodeling the house or the state of the garden or the cats or musicals or my distaste for learning how to drive._

_So long as any letter has the hope of reaching you and proving my continued fondness, I will keep writing. If I must send them anonymously to give you some shred of the hope you have inspired in me, then so be it._

 

_Du hast mein ganzes Herz, meine Atem. I liab di bis zum Ende._

_Roderich_

* * *

 

Erzsebet was startled by her doorbell and she suddenly realized it was past 16:00 and here she was, crumpled up on the floor completely beside herself. Pushing herself to stand and try to look presentable, she called out and tried not to let her voice crack. "I'm coming! Hang on!"

It took her a moment to blow her nose and drink some water before walking calmly to the door. 

And there was that image she had grown so used to seeing. Roderich casually unraveled from his many layers of winter clothes, shuddered, and stomped snow off his boots.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you waiting," he said so casually that it risked breaking her heart all over again. "The drive here was dreadful. Ice all over the roads. The snow isn't even nice to look at by this point. Inconvenience powder, that's what it is. Brr! Disgusting! February is a dreadful month, I must-"

He paused, getting a good look at Erzsebet staring at him with the largest, weepiest smile he had seen in so long. Soon, his disgust had turned into intense concern. "Jessas Maria, what happened to you?"

Erzsebet laughed a little harder to keep her from sobbing all over again, but her hysteria caught up with her and her tears poured over anyway. The realization dawned on him as Erzsebet closed the space between them, pulling him into a tender hug and weeping into his shoulder.

Despite her muffled cries, she felt his shoulders droop and voice vibrate against her cheek as he sighed. 

“You peeked, didn’t you?”

Soon she found the words to speak, though she could barely tell if he could understand them muffled into him. “Sosem tudtam. Soha nem tudtam róla. Istenem!”

Returning the hug, thinking it might soothe her from clutching his sweater, he spoke tenderly as he stroked her hair. "I know, Muse. I’ve known for a while.”

She pulled herself away to see his expression. A flash of anger took her. “You never told me you wrote these. This is the sweetest thing you've ever done for me, and I'm just finding out about it now after all these years, and you never mentioned them to me. Not once.”

Through a melancholy laugh, he tilted her chin up and stroked some of the tears from her cheek. “Muse, I thought you knew. And if you didn't, I was certain they were destroyed.”

The hysteria was back, and she squeezed him even tighter. "Istenem. Köszönöm. Nagyon szépen köszönöm. Ó Istenem, annyira szeretlek."

"Muse," he chuckled, attempting to lead them over to the sofa so she could sit. "Please, no more of that. I'm here now. It doesn't matter."

"It does," she argued. "It does matter. And I am so proud of you for trying to keep me in your life. God, I wish I'd known sooner. How did you ever find them?”

His lips pursed tightly and a bitter laugh pushed past it. Keeping his composure, he gestured to the file. “Look at the insignia again and take a wild guess.”

Turning it back over, she observed the bugle-looking symbol and brought a hand to her face to silence her gasp. “So he did- he was- are you telling me that he-”

“Oh, yes!” Roderich interjected with a frustrated smile. “You’re going to _love_ this. You see, it was a week ago or so when he decided to stop by...”


	6. Pinning It Down

Roderich usually expected Gilbert to climb in through the window, but instead he knocked at the back door in the kitchen while the Austrian was in the middle of preparing dough for croissants.  

He nearly fell back when Gilbert plopped that large file in his hands, but more from the shock of seeing it than failing to anticipate its weight.

Gilbert was using an indoor voice, for once. “I was doing some cleaning. I thought maybe you and Erzi might want to take a look at these together.”

Upon opening the cover and glancing over the first page, seeing the faded ink and aged paper, Roderich glared up at Gilbert with hot tears welling and fogging his glasses. He left the paper be, but the cover took some claw marks.

His breath staggered as he spoke. “Do you mean to tell me… that you… you-”

“Yeah,” Gilbert confessed, sighing and shrugging away some of the shame. “Yeah, I… I did that.” Gilbert wasn’t skilled at showing remorse, so he thought the gesture would be good enough for Roderich. Maybe the sheepish smile would help smooth things over.

It didn’t. The nostril-flaring and accusing, chant-like “you”s should have tipped Gilbert off that he would be smacked across the face, though he expected that to happen. Part of the reason he decided to go see the Priss about returning those letters first. Gilbert didn’t think he could have handled Erzsebet’s reaction – he might have left her house in a stretcher.

The Prussian held his jaw for a second in the aftermath to keep from hitting back. Now that the slap was out of the Austrian’s system, maybe they could try talking like civilized people. Of all the things he could expect from the man, Gilbert could always expect Roderich to advocate for discussion over confrontation.

Except in this instance apparently. Gilbert looked back to see the Austrian whacking a rolling pin repeatedly into his palm and walking toward Gilbert in a way that was strangely menacing for him.

Instinctively, Gilbert quickly started to back away, rushing into the parlor skittish of any swings. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Ruhe! Immer mit der Ruhe! Look, I knew this would be hard to talk about, but I told you first for a reason! Erzi would have killed me!”

“She would be so kind to you, wouldn’t she?” And now he was charging him with the rolling pin. Of all the things to give him the adrenaline rush to scamper away, Gilbert really did not expect it to be from this hot-headed, little Austrian chasing him like a Hausfrau. This was definitely going into the diary!

Covering up his nervous snicker at the display, Gilbert caught the pin mid-hurl toward his face and tried to be the voice of reason. “Manners, Specs! Mensch! What about civility and human decency?”

Yanking it back, Roderich waved the pin in his face and grabbed a handful of Gilbert’s shirt once he backed him into a corner. “Oh, don’t you dare talk to me about decency after what you’ve done, Piefke! Tell me - is it decent to pry into someone’s private correspondence? To feed upon their darkest, innermost thoughts intended for someone else’s eyes? Is it?”

Okay, this was no longer funny. Not that Gilbert thought he was in any real danger over the little Hausfrau, but to say he wasn’t the least bit spooked by the outburst would have been a lie. However, in the moment he was more peeved by Mr. High-and-Mighty’s tone of voice.

Gilbert scoffed as he shouted back. “I was under orders, you moody piece of shit! What, you didn’t think _someone_ was going to read them? You sent letters to a nation under Soviet control, and _I_ was Ivan’s lapdog! What did you expect?”

“I expected a random office worker I’d never met to be reading them, and _then_ Erzsebet! Not _you_ , of all people! God, I could strangle you for this!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic! I was under orders! You know how we are with those things! Give me a break!”

Roderich held the pin up and back. “Oh, I’ll give you a break, alright!”

Before it could make an impact, Gilbert was able to catch it again and hold it there as the Austrian let go to desperately pull for it back. In a flash, Gilbert had snatched the pin from his grasp and strung the enraged little man up by the collar, holding him at arm’s length.

“Um, rude,” Gilbert snarled casually, condescending to the Austrian squirming defiantly in his grasp.

After a few moments of fruitless tantruming, Roderich let out an exasperated groan or two before he gave in to being overpowered.

“Did you get everything out of your system, champ? You ready to stop kicking and screaming and act like a good, little aristocrat?”

All Roderich could think to do in this huffy, tired state was to glare at Gilbert, which served as a good enough answer for the Prussian to walk them over to the sofa, plop him down like a sack of potatoes, and block his path from bolting for that rolling pin.

Gilbert leaned down and looked him dead in the eyes. “Look, I made a mistake. Okay? I admit it. Happy now? Can you calm down for like five minutes so you can hear me own up to it? Will that feed your little ego?”

The bloodshot glare wasn’t going away, and Roderich’s disgust, while hoarse and hushed, was just as strong as when he was kicking and screaming. “You pried through all I sent her and watched her spiral and suffer alone for years, and you did nothing. You _knew_ how mundane and harmless these letters were and what even _those_ could have done for her in confinement, and _yet you did nothing_. How did you sleep at night making that choice day after day?”

“Yeah, and how did you sleep at night after you declared everlasting neutrality? Who’s really morally superior here, Specs?”

“Why on Earth are you crazy enough to admit to doing this now? What would possess you to keep these, after all this time? You could have burned them. They could have been lost to time. Why preserve them?”

“I don’t know,” Gilbert shrugged, nonchalantly. “I was bored and wanted you to chase me around with a rolling pin someday?”

“You are trying my patience with your buffoonery,” Roderich sighed, massaging his temples before standing. “Either be honest or be gone.”

“What do you want me to say?” The Prussian ranted, following Roderich back into the kitchen. The urgency in his voice was starting to frighten Roderich right back. “That I forgot I had them? That I didn’t want Ludwig to be the one to give this to either of you and fight my battles for me, if something happened? Maybe I wanted to do something good for two people I care about? Be a better person? Make up for my mistakes? Not have to keep feeling guilty over what I did? Geez!”

"Why do you care so much?"

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed it, Roddy, but time is not exactly on my side, and maybe I want to be remembered for actually doing something awesome. So ah... take them. Maybe actually deliver them. Or don't. It's not my business anymore." 

Gilbert sauntered out the back door, almost at risk of shuffling his feet, until he heard the door swing behind him.

"I can't forgive you," Roderich called over to him, "but I also cannot thank you enough. For keeping them, and returning them. That was rather noble of you."

Not one to give in to soft moments, Gilbert puffed out his collar and grinned back. "Eh, consider it a token of our friendship."

Roderich deadpanned: "We're not friends."

Gilbert responded with a grin and a wink, "Not yet."

As he watched the Prussian walk on, Roderich glanced back over at the large file and hummed to himself. "Hmm... not yet."


	7. Climbing Over Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erzsebet and Roderich share some final pieces to the puzzle and unexpressed feelings in the hopes of getting their romantic evening back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitch! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!

Erzsebet slumped back wearily into her sofa, feeling a swarm of emotions making her queasy all over again but having no way to express them beyond shaking her head. “I… I’m not even sure what to say. I’m not shocked, really, but…” She groaned and swore as she ran her hands through her hair. “Istenem,” she raved on. “My personal agent? _He_ was my personal agent this whole time? Atza, Gilbert! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“You see, this is part of why I wanted to open these _after_ dinner,” Roderich affirmed her, trying to reign in his sass for a sensitive moment. He still wasn’t sure how she would react. Twenty some years later, and there was still so much to talk about.

There were some things, though, that remained consistent with Erzsebet. Mostly her need to be a good host without much consideration to herself. She smacked her forehead. “A francba! The dinner! The finger food! The goulash! Te egy rendetlenség! I-I have nothing ready!”

“Muse, please sit,” he soothed, gently reaching for her hand a placing the other on her knee. “It’s okay. You’re fine. Don’t trouble yourself over me. I have already given you enough grief for one day.”

“What kind of host am I?” she berated herself, hoping she could salvage what was supposed to be a romantic evening. “I didn’t even ask! Are you hungry? Did you want anything? I have a bowl of cherries somewhere in there. It’s not much but it-”

“I can make it to the kitchen and back just fine. The walk won’t kill me,” Roderich responded, already on his feet and placing the tissues on the coffee table in his seat. “Just finish your glass of water. I’ll refill it for you and fetch something for the both of us. You said you wanted the bowl of cherries?”

“I’m so sorry,” Erzsebet said. A small hiccup sounded as she rushed past him into the kitchen, turning on one of the stove top burners and jumping right into cooking, quietly thanking herself for thinking to chop her onions the night before. “You’ve come all this way. You must be starving. Please, make yourself comfortable. This shouldn’t take long.”

 _Right_ , he thought, _three hours wouldn’t be long_ _at all_. Rather than take the invitation outright, Roderich began to rummage through her cupboard with his rumbling stomach in mind. “Do you mind if I put on a pot of coffee?”

“You don’t have to do that. I have wine for us tonight. A very special one, too,” she tried to regale him again with the prospect of food. However, Roderich didn’t sound immediately enchanted. Thankfully he prided himself on being in better control of his temper around Erzsebet, and he made an even bigger point to himself to do so when she was clearly upset.

“Forgive me, but maybe wine is not the best thing for us to be drinking right now,” he suggested, hoping to get her to laugh. Soon Erzsebet heard Roderich cooing over the sweet bread he pulled out from hiding. “You really did plan to spoil me tonight, didn’t you?”

“Oh, you put that back,” Erzsebet scolded him, trying and failing to appear forceful in her voice and her half-hearted whip of the dish towel. “You’ll spoil your dinner!”

It was another exchange that was to be expected. Roderich would always try to sneak dessert before the main course, and Erzsebet would try to stop him. Her half-hearted defense was still a cause for alarm. He put down the bagged loaf on the counter and stood beside Erzsebet at the stove, watching her turn the vegetables roughly in her cast iron pan.

“Erzsi, I don’t think we have ever had a better excuse to eat dessert before the main course,” he reasoned. “Once you can have a moment off your feet, I don’t think it would hurt to indulge our sweet toothes early.”

“You must be starving, if you’re being this patient,” Erzsebet joked, setting the timer nearby.

“My stomach is eating itself,” Roderich stated plainly, trying desperately not to complain. “And I find sweets help to ease things over in these kinds of situations.”

* * *

The goulash had maybe two hours to sit. By the time Erzsebet tore herself away from the stove, Roderich had already prepared a nice dessert plate for her, complete with the cherries and bread and a fresh, steamy cup of coffee to its side. He was just reentering the room with the tissue box when she walked toward the table.

Instinctively, the ex-aristocrat quickened his pace so he could pull out the chair for Erzsebet, having them both hold to the back of it and stop in their tracks.

The Hungarian gave him a wry look, “I can do this myself, you know.”

With that reaction, Roderich sheepishly loosened his grip on the chair and walked to the neighboring seat. “Oh, right. Entschuldigung. Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

As Roderich jumped right into eating with Erzsebet’s permission, the Hungarian picked at her food and stared at her plate. With a moment to rest, she was stuck in her thoughts once again, stuck thinking back to the Eastern Bloc. Back to Gilbert. Thoughts and memories flooded her mind all over again, and she felt their chaotic pressure cracking down on her like an old dam. Her silence was slowly becoming more and more unsettling, especially as she stopped touching her food altogether.

Once Roderich stopped hearing the gentle clang of dishes, he looked up to notice the tears welling in her eyes all over again. Tears she tried to hide behind balled fists. Of a gnawing pain trying desperately to escape her.

He put down his silverware and stretched a hand across the table to her, trying to create the most calming presence he could think as the words stumbled out. “I know this sort of news is… a lot to absorb. You must be re-experiencing quite a bit that I’m sure you never wanted to revisit-”

“No, you don’t understand” she shooed his hand away, gripping at her hair once again. “It makes no sense! No sense at all!”

“How do you mean?” Roderich inquired, remaining calm and stirring his creamer. “Gilbert keeping the letters? Giving them back? His assignment?”

The question broke through something in her, maybe something she didn’t want to face but felt no other choice but to break through. “Why would he do all of this to me, if he were trying to protect me?”

The ex-aristocrat was admittedly taken aback by the outburst, but more so by her inquiry. It seemed such an odd thing to say. He halted his spoon and watched the tiny whirlpool dissipate in his mug. “It seems more so to me that he had to protect himself. It’s not an unusual decision for that time.”

“No, it’s just that…” Erzsebet sighed, again finding no easy way out of it but through it.

“I haven’t told you enough about what happened over the wall between us,” she continued, looking down at her mug and holding it tenderly. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lip. “Gil protected me, so many times behind that wall. I was so sure the whole model nation thing was an act to help us all get by. He’d check in and look out for me, pull strings for me. I called him a friend. He took the brunt of so much. I was so sure it was an act! I was so sure it wasn’t real, except…” and another hitch had found its way up her throat, and she grabbed another tissue to avoid using her sleeve.

“He had to make it look convincing somehow, I suppose,” Roderich suggested, doing a poor job of hiding any lingering resentment toward the Prussian. “And I am not so naïve as to think severing me from your life was a completely selfless decision on his part in the least bit. I am aware of how he felt about you.”

“He’s never been discrete about it, has he?” the Hungarian chuckled, not as bitterly as Roderich had expected from her. “I… I won’t lie. There were moments where he and I… I let him…”

The bitter laugh took over again as she shook her head, putting the mug down so she could massage her temples. “That’s what makes this so hard,” she went on, uncovering her face once again and revealing a melancholy grin. “I trusted him that much. We had gotten that close.”

Registering her sentiment, Roderich felt an anger bubbling in his stomach, not unlike the anger he felt upon Gil’s confession. In this moment, however, the feeling hit him like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him feeling somewhat incapacitated. It had nothing to do with her, of course. It was more so a feeling in her honor, in her empathy.

“Well, now,” Roderich exhaled, understanding there wasn’t much point in acting on it, especially not in front of Erzsebet. This wasn’t her fault. “It’s no wonder he decided to come to me first with this. I knew you’d probably kill him, but… oof,” he sighed sharply, hoping he could mask this reaction as a small belch. “Had I known about that, I’m not quite sure what I would have done to him.”

Erzsebet snorted through her nose at the crack. “Could you go that much farther than chasing him with a rolling pin?” she teased, quietly proud of his willingness to fight for her despite his lack of skill.

“I’m not sure I really want to think on it right now,” he confessed, trying to soften the knit in his brow. “We just started eating.”

Erzsebet didn’t want to leave anything unsaid between the two of them. She felt the impulse to ask. “You’re not upset to know, are you?”

“About you and he?” the Austrian asked, neither minding or enjoying the thought. “So long as he didn’t force you into doing anything you didn’t want to do, I’m fine.”

“Oh, no no! He would never! I know that for certain,” she defended the Prussian, allowing some laughter to seep into her words as she checked the stove top. “It’s probably part of why I trusted him so much.”

Taking another few bites of the bread, Roderich shrugged. “Well, so long as you’re not hurt, I’m not hurt.”

Erzsebet suddenly hunched over the stove, her back still turned to Roderich, and she remained quiet for moment. “Please don’t say that,” she pleaded, turning back around. “I don’t want this to be your problem. I just…”

On she continued to fume, turning the meat almost too carelessly. Some of the brew splashed out of the side and the flames hissed and flared to break her need to hit something. Turning down the heat and deliberately placing the spoon on the counter, she walked out into the other room and screamed into one of her throw pillows.

Roderich knew to wait it out and refilled his cup, placing the lid back onto the pan, which smelled more delicious with each passing minute.

Erzsebet stormed back in after a quiet moment, reaching again for the tissue box. She was thankful she didn’t try wearing makeup for the evening, especially if she had known it would have been washed off this quickly into the night.

She sat herself back at the table and placed her head in her hands. The sight of it made that nauseous feeling twist his stomach into knots. “How did I ever become so careless, enough to just let him in like that? He lied to me. Every day, he lied to me about you. I… I was so convinced you’d left me behind. So convinced you’d forgotten about me. It’s…”

“I wasn’t a good husband,” he interrupted her, with a guilt and matter-of-fact clarity she didn’t expect so soon. “We don’t have to pretend that I was. Your feelings wouldn’t have been unfounded, based on how I behaved toward you, and I grappled with that fact every time I sat down to write to you. I found myself waiting to receive your rejection some days. I would at least know you were alright. You would at least know I hadn’t abandoned you. How could I, missing you the way I did?”

The simple admission had her bawling again, but smiling as she pulled herself into his embrace again. Kissing her forehead and tilting her chin up to face him, Roderich kept going with tears brimming in his own eyes. “I had to do something. I had to keep trying to reach you. I had to keep writing, to tell you and show you in every way I could all that I’d neglected to say the moment you weren’t there, hoping I wasn’t too late to make things right. You deserved that much, at least. You deserved to hear me tell you I love you. Which I do. Erzsi, meine Geliebte Muse, I liab di so viel-”

Erzsebet silenced him quickly, before he made her cry any harder, with a kiss as passionate as when the border fence collapsed, that fateful summer of 1989. Another kiss filled with longing and hope and life and an ecstasy in waiting for decades that felt beyond even a nation's comprehension. Even beyond the horrid weather and her trusty heater, Erzsebet was completely certain Roderich would be spending the night in her embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT5RDZI3qvY


End file.
